


How Do You Say "I Love You"?

by XxTwistedEverAfterxX



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2694470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTwistedEverAfterxX/pseuds/XxTwistedEverAfterxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew Williams, a young man from a small town in Quebec is studying abroad in America to perfect his English, and live a new lifestyle for the sake of cultural experiences unable to be achieved living alone or in a dorm room, moving in for a year with Alfred and his family. What neither expect is to learn more than just language together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Do You Say "I Love You"?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starspangleddork](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=starspangleddork).



> This is my second AmeCan story~ This fic is written for starspangleddork on Tumblr for the AmeCan Summer Exchange 2013 under the prompt "Matthew is a foreign exchange student staying with Alfred's family. A relationship blooms but Matthew has to go back to his family in Canada at some point" as well as taking bits of inspiration from the song "Cups" by Anna Kendrick- another promt. I got really carried away, so unfortunately my writing limit went... ridiculous lengths *Laughs nervously* I fail at writing one-shots because they all seem to turn into mini novels... Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this fic! Smooch smooch!

There was an excited buzz all around about the airport- groups awaiting a loved one's return, others saying a tearful farewell as they passed on towards the Departure gate, whilst here and there dotted solitary people standing with signs written in various languages, and others simply looking on anxiously at the Arrivals gate.

"Bloody hell, you twit, keep still. You're causing a scene," a sharp British voice snipped, hand rising with pointer and thumb together at the tips before they released in a fast flick to a lightly sun kissed ear.

"Ow! I'm not causing a scene," the injured male protested, nursing his ear with both hands as though a bullet had blasted it right off, "I'm just excited!"

Emerald eyes rolled, pushing the white cardboard sign into the other's chest.

"Excited or not, Alfred, stop acting the fool. Your bouncing is giving me cramps in my calves just watching you," the former continued, releasing the sign only when Alfred, the one prior addressed, grasped it with both hands, "Hold that up if you have so much energy. You went overboard with it- the obnoxiousness is burning my eyes."

Rolling bright blue eyes, Alfred grinned at his father. "Geez, that's not my fault if your calves are hurting. You're probably just  _getting old_ ," he teased with a snigger, only to yelp once more as another flick to the ear was delivered.

"Alfred."

" _Arthur_."

The American grinned as his mother flashed a dangerous glare at first his father, and then him, her long sandy blonde hair tied into a neat high ponytail, some stray bangs along the side of her face pinned with slim bobby pins that matched the crimson of her glasses and lipstick that was painted on the stern frown of her lips.

"Both of you be quiet, you're embarrassing. Everyone's staring," she hissed through faintly crooked teeth.

"If anyone's staring at us, it's at pop's eyebrows," Alfred mumbled, only to whine at another flick to his ear by a scowling father, "Pops, come on, I'm twenty three already!"

"Twenty three or not, you still live at home with us and until you move out, you follow our rules," Arthur scolded, arms folded across his chest, clucking his tongue in annoyance as his wife moved to adjust the emerald tie he wore on top of his white dress shirt. She had had to physically wrestle him out of the knit vest he so often wore at home before they'd driven to the airport, still bickering.

"Arthur, be quiet, Alfred, you too. Hold the sign up, the signs say his flight has landed," she muttered, straightening the American's collar who whined.

"Mum, that was half an hour ago," he complained in pitch, blue eyes squinting and adjusting his glasses to see the neon red reflecting off the electronic 'Flight Arrival' chart dangling above their heads where the flight number AA512 had been declared as 'Landed'.

The automatic doors beneath the arrivals sign opened, and like a puppy, Alfred's head jerked up, bright blue eyes wide, grin broad on his face and he thrust the sign into the air once more, accidentally elbowing Arthur harshly in the ribs in his excitement, earning a grunt in response.

"Alfred," the man scolded, earning a bubbly and highly restrained sound of excitement from the young man.

"Pops, lighten up! We've got an exchange student coming to stay with us for a whole  _year_ , and you don't want him to think everyone's like that. He's gonna—"

" _Going to_."

"—take one look at us and think his whole year in ' _Murica_ —"

" _America_."

"—will be awful!"

Alice could only sigh, reaching beneath her glasses to pinch at the bridge of her nose, pursing her lips. "Fortunately for him, he can go home and never deal with this terrible bickering from you two ever again, whereas I'm perpetually stuck with it until either Alfred moves out, I die, or get a divorce," she sighed, her eyes scanning the crowds as more people exited the doors, each looking disorientated and exhausted, or excitable, "Now you know who to look for, right?"

"Right!" Alfred chirped, holding the sign up higher, "Matthew Williams, Canadian from Quebec, my height, blond. Probably dressed like a lumberjack, suckling on a bottle of maple syrup and will greet us with 'Eh, eh, moose beaver eh, igloo snow shovel, eh,  _eh_?'"

Both parents gave the American a scolding look at the deafening laughter that followed, looking like they were content with evaporating on the spot, looking away in combined disgrace and embarrassment as their son slapped his thigh, close to simply smacking him upside the head  _right there_  in amidst the crowd of onlookers when abruptly, he silenced.

It was like the breath had been pulled from his chest, lungs crushed and unable to function, the last bit of air to fall from his lips tripping in stutters and taking his voice along with it as it dropped to the ground. Bright blue eyes were wide, fixated on a single object that seemed to part the doors just by approaching them—ignorant to the fact that they were automatic doors and would do so for any man, woman, child or gender-neutral-self-assigned-sex to pass through them. There was nothing else that mattered in the world to Alfred after the materialisation of an angel turned head in his direction and locked eyes with him, and it had to have been  _fate_. No, he wouldn't accept anyone pointing out that he'd been holding a sign with the angel's name on it that had drawn attention to him. It had been fate, destiny, unavoidable, preset and written in stone!

Slowly lowering the sign, Alfred stared dumbly as that beautiful angel approached, tugging a suitcase behind him, his slim torso wrapped in a pastel blue turtleneck, tan pants hugging lean looking thighs and long legs that went on  _forever_ , hips straight and ass— _he wanted to see that ass_.

"Mister Kirkland?" the angel asked once he reached the little pole-and-glass barrier that kept the crowds waiting a good few metres in front of the arrivals gate so as to not crowd the doors or tempt people to enter them illegally.

"Uh…" Well, if that had been the most intelligent thing to fall from his mouth, then that was embarrassing.

"No, that's me," Arthur stepped in, pressing the sign down from his dumbfounded son as he gave a nod to the other blond—whose waves of fair blond looked like they were dipped into a light caramel at the tips, soft and floating and  _beautiful_ —and gestured to the American, "This is my son, Alfred. My name's Arthur, and my wife, Alice. We'll be your host family for your year of exchange."

The angel smiled, and Alfred swore his cheeks couldn't turn any darker as their exchange student,  _the one that would be living with them for a whole year_ , turned his pretty violet eyes—all shades and hues of lavender, indigo, light blue and didn't it just remind him of the Aurora Borealis of the Great White North—to the American and looked him up and down before resting on his face.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Matthew Williams," he greeted, reaching out a hand.

And just like that, Cupid released his arrow and struck Alfred straight through the heart.

* * *

The car drive was full of awkwardness, and perhaps the family had revealed their true nature quite quickly—Arthur turning to snap at Alfred to straighten his shoulders and help with the suitcase, Alfred making comments on Arthur's age whilst tripping over his feet and practically lunging at Matthew to take his suitcase as Alice hissed that people were watching them and so help her if she had to put up with this she was getting a divorce.

All in which time Matthew looked rather embarrassed and confused, but still smiled.

Even once they arrived home, Alfred couldn't believe his luck. This angel was beautiful, utterly incomprehensibly gorgeous, and he got to live with him for a whole year, and that excited him. The man was probably as sweet as sugar with how cordial his voice was, the soft but still masculine tone like liquid silk turned audio with that pretty French Canadian tipped accent and he just wanted to hear  _more_.

"Take Matthew to his room and help him get his suitcase up the stairs, Alfred," Arthur instructed, "Your mother and I will be preparing lunch."

"Don't kill him too soon!" Alfred called down the hall, laughing at the sharp bark of " _Alfred_!" before the American turned to the suitcase that was being wheeled into the house, shoes toed off in the entrance near the garage, "Alright, lemme take your suitcase upstairs then."

Matthew smiled, shaking his head as he followed Alfred in to the bottom of the stairwell. "It's fine, I can carry it up," he said as he pushed down the handle for pulling, turning it onto its side to grasp the handle to carry it.

"No, no, it's totally cool, I'll do it," Alfred insisted, flexing his arms a little, "Not meanin' to brag, but I could probably lift it without a single prob…lem?"

Alfred stared in complete shock as his beautiful angel gracefully lifted the heavy suitcase, holding it easily in his arms and on his shoulder, smiling sweetly with a twist of hidden mischief.

"Merci, but I can manage."

With that, the Canadian moved his way up the stairs, leg muscles flexing beneath those tan cotton pants that folded and stretched with each move and perfectly accentuated his firm rump.

Licking his lips, Alfred gave a crooked grin, watching Matthew climb the stairs with ease.

"Well I'll be damned," he murmured, shaking his head like a wet dog and followed him up to the second floor landing, pointing down the hall, speaking louder as the suitcase was put down, "Your bedroom's this way, next to mine. The folks' bedroom is other end of the hall—they have their own bathroom in there, and ours is just over here. We're sharing."

Time for the guided tour. "Bathroom's got a toilet, and the bath and shower is one thing, er, you'll see what I mean- it's a bath but it's got a shower head too. Sink, mirror, drawers for your pretty face stuff," he continued, waving his hand dismissively and opening Matthew's bedroom door, sniffing the air, "And this is your room. We left the window open for a bit to air it out, but, not sure if it's got some musk to it or not."

The Canadian poked his head inside, making Alfred start a little from the sudden appearance. On closer inspection of the snugly fit shirt, it seemed that Matthew may be slim, but he wasn't scrawny by any means. Where the  _fuck_  did he hide those toned as muscles? It seemed first appearances weren't always to be believed, and Alfred was quite excited to learn what else his new exchange student would surprise him with.

"Are you all good for now?" Alfred asked, grinning as he stepped out of the doorway for Matthew to walk inside, sock covered feet soundless on the carpet as the suitcase was wheeled in.

"I'm fine, thank you," was the gentle reply accompanied by a smile as Matthew eased his suitcase onto its side, getting to work unlocking it with keys and number locks by the handle, "Perhaps just let me know when food is ready or if I'm needed for help? I'll help myself to a shower to get the aeroplane stink off me and then maybe lie down for a bit."

"Help yourself to the towels, we've got plenty," Alfred encouraged, watching the suitcase open up and a bag full of what he assumed to be shower amenities to be pulled out, "I'll come see you again when you're done! Enjoy!"

"Thank you."

Leaving the room, Alfred returned to his own, heart pounding as he dropped down onto his bed face down, hugging his pillow. He could hear the shower water running some minutes later, and it only stirred taunting thoughts that just a few rooms down, the new attractive exchange student was nude and washing himself.

Hopefully Matthew's personality was just as interesting as his appearance.

* * *

Within the following weeks and months, Alfred wasn't disappointed even in the slightest. The more he learnt about the Canadian, the happier he became, and the deeper his crush seemed to grow within him.

A week in, and Alfred discovered that Matthew too owned a PSP and practically the same games as him, which turned into a solid weekend of them both on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder and rapidly pressing buttons as they worked on versus style games and trading items, leading to them plonking down on Alfred's bed in front of the X-Box and running a marathon of team player games to unlock more abilities and levels.

It was in that week that Alfred took note of how skilled the Canadian was with his slim fingers, and how utterly soft they were despite the calluses which Matthew told him were from many years of hockey, though not rough thanks to the use of moisturiser.

Alfred had flushed bright red at the wink thrown his way at the end of that sentence he later realised was a lewd insinuation.

After a month, the two had bonded closely, Arthur jokingly asking Alice why their sweet and well behaved Canadian son had to have disappeared from their lives and gone to live with another family all those years ago. Like the missing piece to a puzzle, Matthew slot into their family perfectly, and glimpsing the French-Canadian around the house was a common sight, and one that had grown even rarer was seeing him alone. Alfred was constantly at his side, the two smiling, laughing, joking and talking.

After the second month, they stopped being Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams, and became Al 'n' Mattie, or Mattie 'n' Al. They weren't separate, so metaphorically fused at the sides they were practically one entity.

They shared the same interests, did the same things together, had the same friends, took almost identical classes in their university, and even some professors found it profusely odd when only one of the North Americans showed up, teasingly questioning where their twin was. Arthur had warned his son initially to not get overtly clingy in the beginning, that Matthew would find it annoying and get sick of it and push him away eventually. It was a surprise to the British father when Alfred looked on the verge of a tantrum and sulked in his room, obediently giving Matthew some space, only for the Canadian to be found asking where Alfred was so that they could go out to the mall and investigate some new games.

Just like Alfred, Matthew too sought out for the man many had dubbed his twin. Their faces alike, and he even began to perk up and respond when addressed as Alfred, though it was only ever when he was alone, as though expecting that hearing such a name meant the American was in the vicinity.

It was during the third month when Alfred first caught Matthew shirtless, changing from a shower, clad only in red boxer briefs. The American had barrelled in, unexpectedly seeing the fluffy white of a towel flutter to the ground, a firm ass being snugly fit in underwear that had been pulled up just in time that he missed them coming on, the Canadian's crack seen only briefly. Matthew had turned his head in surprise, violet eyes wide, curls damp with the recent shower, droplets falling from the tips to fall to milky skin, curl over ridges and muscles, teasing nipples to hardness in the cool air. Neither had said anything as Matthew turned a little, his well endowed package nicely outlined in the red fabric of the boxer briefs, cheeks a little pink from the surprise of being caught so indecent, yet it was Alfred that blushed the hardest.

Matthew said nothing about his host brother's erection, but a distinct dark flicker through his eyes that curled his lips into a soft smile signified to the blue eyed man that maybe he hadn't minded all that much.

Alfred had still turned tail and ran before the lump in his pants could be addressed.

After that moment, things got awkward for Alfred, not daring to meet Matthew's eyes, afraid to see disgust or even recall the toned, muscled white body instead of seeing a fully clothed and irritated Canadian. Said pale blond wasn't making escape easy, and it was as though his promiscuity had become intentional.

Brushing hands when passing salt or pepper at the dinner table that made sparks jump between their fingers.

Pressing flush up close in packed trains and rubbing their bodies subtly as the train rocked that made Alfred sweat and breathe heavily.

Resting against him during movies or games and insisting he slid under the same blanket so they could share and get warmer together as Alfred's heart beat frantically in his throat.

The first time Alfred had felt a soft socked foot rubbing against his ankle beneath a table whilst all their friends were around at a restaurant lunch outing had resulted in a loud yelp and his knees slamming up into the table before he practically tripped out of his chair, crashing to the ground and stuttering out an excuse about needing to go to the toilet, catching a sultry smile and dark glimmer in violet eyes as he escaped. Not for long though. Alfred could hear Matthew excusing himself, their friends curious as to the sudden disappearance of the usually so lively American.

Alfred had darted around waiters and other tables, slipping off into the hall that lead to the toilet, heart slamming fast in his chest when he felt slim fingers curl around his wrist, catching him.

"Is everything okay?" Matthew asked, voice gentle, mock innocence that Alfred  _refused_  to fall for masking his expression of deviance.

"Dude," he muttered, pointing an accusing finger at the Canadian, "No."

"No?"

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I don't understand," Matthew murmured, stepping closer to the American who squirmed, flapping his hand a little to free his wrist from the paler man's hold.

"Don't play stupid, you know what!" he whined, sun kissed face paling a little as he caught himself trapped in the hall with no escape but the men's toilet or the women's toilet.

"Playing stupid?" Matthew repeated, looking at the other innocently, offering a small smile, "I just didn't understand what you meant. I'm still trying my best to study English."

Passive-aggressive little shit. Alfred could tell by the glimmer in violet eyes that the French-Canadian had damn well understood  _perfectly_  and there was no loss in translation.

Swallowing hard, Alfred backed himself up into the wall by the plant in the corner, feeling sweat beading at his brow by the hairline as Matthew neared him, still holding onto his wrist, thumb stroking the underside at the sensitive skin.

"Liar," he hissed, watching those gorgeous eyes of his angel dance in amusement.

"Coward," came the rebut, and Alfred was stunned, bright blue eyes wide as he found himself pressed to the wall, a surprisingly strong hand on his shoulder keeping him there, violet eyes dangerously close.

He could count every individual eyelash from this proximity.

"I-I ain't no coward," Alfred croaked out, heartbeat pounding in jumps and skips as he could practically  _taste_  Matthew's meal on the other's breath that fell against his lips.

"Your grammar is wrong," Matthew pointed out teasingly, stepping in closer, their hips bumping and the American gulped hard.

"I don't care," he replied, unable to look anywhere else but the Canadian's eyes, lips, long nose that ended in a slight ski jump at the tip, and fair eyelashes, "I can't focus on talkin' when you're like this."

"Like what?"

"Jesus fucking  _Christ_ , Mattie! The sexual tension is gonna kill me!"

"Then act on it."

In that split moment, Alfred struck a realisation. They both wanted it. Matthew's little advances- subtle, not shy in the slightest- had been insistent but not unwanted and certainly not harassment. When Alfred had backed off or seemed to grow uncomfortable, Matthew didn't persist and gave the man space.

Yet Alfred always returned once he had calmed himself.

Alfred always came back hopeful, seeking for more.

Alfred wanted it to.

Lifting the hand that wasn't held by Matthew's wrist, he gingerly cupped the back of the other man's head, bringing it closer, finding no resistance, the Canadian willingly leaning in and sealing their lips in a kiss both had wanted for far too long.

It was a chaste peck at first, both parting from one another to breathe a little shakily, Alfred proud that Matthew's fair cheeks had taken on a soft pink, but then, they returned hungrily and with vigour, pressing to each other with need, hands touching, roaming and squeezing as lips, teeth and tongue came into play in the kiss. Alfred nipped at the other's bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and running his tongue along it which Matthew quickly coaxed into his mouth, sucking on the organ. It was hot and heavy, the kiss a built up tension of desperation from three months of flirting from Matthew's side, and wishing and fantasising from Alfred's side.

The kiss was broken, their lips wet with saliva; Matthew's bottom lip swelled from the biting, Alfred's a dark pink from sucking.

"Home," the American choked out, to which he received a firm nod of agreement, both releasing each other remorsefully, fingers lingering on bodies in a silent promise to return with more.

Their friends were easy to shake, Alfred simply gripping his stomach and grinning apologetically, saying he didn't feel well, whilst Matthew played the innocent expression of concern and told the group that he'd be helping Alfred home just to make sure he would make it back safely. From the outside of the restaurant once out of view, they sprinted to Alfred's car, chasing, grinning, laughing and slammed one another into the vehicle, lips hungry and biting, hips rutting desperately. They were both adults, both twenty three- though Matthew older by precisely three days- and both had their needs. Clumsily climbing into the passenger seat and driver's seat, Matthew was merciless on the way home, nipping, sucking, kissing his way over Alfred's neck who growled, hands tight on the steering wheel.

"I'm gonna fuckin' get ya back, ya li'l shit," he hissed as Matthew dropped a hand to his lap, fingers teasing the edge of his steadily growing arousal through his jeans.

"Mhm~" Matthew hummed back sweetly around a bit of Alfred's flesh in his mouth, sucking firmly.

Returning home hadn't gone quite as expected.

Alfred's plan had been to run up the stairs with Matthew and lock them in a room—his own or the Canadian's, either or, he wasn't fussy—and ravage him. The exchange student was quick to pull away once the door opened, smoothing his hair down, greeting Arthur with a call and a pleasant smile in the direction of the living room.

The man didn't stay there for long as Alfred let out a slew of colourful words in a fit of fury that his parents were home, quickly to be scolded by the Briton and chastised for such foul language and chased up the stairs with a wooden spoon by Alice, all the while Matthew toed off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket with an innocent smile on his face.

That night, Matthew soothed the burning red slap mark of a spoon on Alfred's cheeks with soft kisses; the two North Americans falling asleep curled up in each other's arms, legs tangled and feet nudging one another in their sleep.

* * *

The bliss was short lived.

In the fourth month, they were caught.

It had been an act of carelessness on both of their parts- Alfred had forgotten to lock his bedroom door; Matthew had forgotten to check that all the doors were locked. The paler one pressed firmly to the bed, legs spread and wrapped around the waist of the man between them, both clad in loose shirts and boxers, rutting their hips against one another's, kissing hard, fingers groping and searching skin they'd long since memorised now.

Arthur had walked in; disturbed by the perpetual silence between the 'twins' at four in the afternoon without the ringing of shouts at video games, or shrieks at the next new horror movie they were both enthralled with. Emerald, bright sky blue, and violet eyes all locked in a mixture of shock, and guilt from the latter two, the young men staring at their father figure with heaving chests.

There had been no shouting. No screaming. Not even a word was said.

The elder simply shut the door, quietly leaving them be. Filled with shame and a sense of dread, they untangled their limbs, fixing their hair and glasses, picking up their pants and exchanged wary glances.

Neither left the room until dinner was called by Alice, the two North Americans trudging slowly down the stairs, walking like condemned men with their heads hung and their feet dragging. Dinner was awkward; Arthur remained tight lipped, the usual chatter and banter between Alfred and Matthew absent, and Alice giving her husband distinctly sharp looks as though trying to stab him with her gaze.

Ten uncomfortable minutes of heavy silence in, Arthur broke it.

"I'm not mad at you two."

Matthew and Alfred felt the heavy guilt and fear that had lodged in their throats and weighed down their stomachs lift, no longer pushing about the food—though the food wasn't exactly eaten in delight, considering that Alice had cooked it after all.

"I'm not mad," Arthur repeated before continuing, "What you boys decide to do together as host brothers or friends or beyond is none of my concern, nor is it something to look so glum about."

Cutlery was placed down as Arthur sighed, dabbing at his lips with a napkin, emerald eyes focused on his half drunk cup of Russian Caravan tea.

"What does concern me is where this shall go. By all means, thrive in a relationship. Do what you please. But just keep in mind, that you two must live under the same roof for another eight months, and if things don't work out between you or you two have a fight, I will not accept any awkwardness in my household," their father spoke, looking up very seriously at the two younger men as Alice gave them tight lipped frowns, "Atop of that, Matthew is to go home to Canada in eight months. If you two begin a serious relationship, keep in mind that after Matthew's exchange is up, he must return home without you, Alfred."

The American blinked, looking up at his parents in surprise, looking from one to the other.

"Ya'll ain't mad?" he asked, eyebrows knitted upwards, reaching a hand for Matthew's who took it and laced their fingers hurriedly beneath the table.

"'You're not mad?' would be the correct English. Don't teach Matthew improper grammar or pronunciation. He's here to learn," Arthur scolded, sighing heavily, picking up his teacup and taking a sip, "And the answer is no. Why on earth would I be angry, lad? Preposterous. Do you think we live in the Dark Ages? I'm not a caveman, Alfred."

The American in question perked up brightly, as though he had suddenly turned into a human personification of a Golden Retriever- vivacious and excitable.

"I love ya, pops!" Alfred chirped happily, squeezing Matthew's hand who in turn returned a grateful and relieved sounding "Thank you, papa!"

Arthur gave a small smile over the rim of his tea cup, lowering it slowly, keeping his eyes down as Alice gave an affectionate look seeing the two younger males happy. "Again, I repeat to you, it is not your same gender relationship which has me concerned, but rather Matthew returning to Quebec after his exchange is over with us and due to VISA expiration," Arthur pointed out, face growing stern once more, "Are you two willing to accept that you will have to physically separate in eight months time?"

A sombre atmosphere settled once more, and Matthew and Alfred exchanged looks, the group silent for a few moments before the Canadian smiled, looking to his host parents.

"We'll work something out when the time comes," he promised, giving Alfred's hand a tender squeeze.

Neither knew what to do.

* * *

The fifth month brought the winter and chilled the air, thicker clothes, and Alfred soured at the temperature. When questioned about it by Matthew, he simply responded that it was because he got to see less of the slim Canadian's body beneath the layers of clothes. Matthew only laughed.

They wrapped in thick blankets and sipped at hot chocolate as they gamed, fingers icy, breaths puffed upwards to warm the tips of their noses when they first touched intimately. It had been Matthew that had made the first move as he hit pause on the game.

Unaware of his intentions, Alfred blinked, turning his eyes away from the menu screen.

"Let me just warm my hands a little," Matthew spoke with a smile, placing the controller to the X-Box down to slide his hands into the blanket they were wrapped in, cuddling in close.

"Actually, that's a good idea. My fingers are freezing!" Alfred whined, tossing the remote to the side on the bed as he tucked his hands in, readjusting the blankets around them, yelping as he felt a chill on him, the Canadian chucking.

"Calm down, it's just my hands," he assured, gently holding the other's sides whilst he squirmed.

"Dude, your hands are like freakin' ice! Get them out of my shirt!" Alfred whined, pouting like a kicked puppy at the other.

"Put yours in my shirt, it'll help warm them up."

Alfred's heart stopped, swallowing hard, though he hesitated only a split second before obeying. Matthew's skin was soft, smooth; able to feel the slightest bumps of goose-bumps rising on his skin as icy hands clutched onto firm, toned, slim muscles around his waist.

"Why is your body so hot in winter?" Alfred complained, "I turn into a walking icicle!"

"Because I'm Canadian," Matthew chuckled, his fingers easily starting to thaw out as he rubbed the softness of Alfred's hips by strong abdominal muscles, padded faintly to soften his touch against the strength.

The American whined at these insistent touches, squirming. "Stop touching my fat!"

"It's cute."

"No it's not!"

"I like it."

" _Why_?"

"I don't know… I just do; I like it."

Alfred pouted, his bottom lip jutting out, cheeks puffing and bright blue eyes turning wet and large, whining through his nose as the Canadian simply chuckled, leaning in.

"I like it," he repeated softly, gently nipping at the stuck out bottom lip, catching it between white teeth and sucking it into his mouth, running his tongue slowly along it, ripping a shiver from the American who pressed forward, sealing their lips in a kiss with a happy hum.

It was slow, tender, and gentle. Their lips moved in sync against each other's, parting and allowing tongues to explore and suckle on lightly, moaning whenever they flickered upwards towards the roof of their mouth, tickling the sensitive skin there and behind the back of their teeth. There was no dominance play, each giving way to one another, tongues pressing at the other to signal a shift, their heads tilting and rocking like the sway of a tide on a boat as to who was in control. Their fingers had warmed up against their heated bodies, clutching softly to hips and waist, Alfred's fingers sliding back to rest on the small of the Canadian's back, whilst Matthew's were content cupping hips, thumbs gliding along hip bones, pressing in gently to sensitive nerves and dips of muscles that made Alfred gasp into the kiss and shudder.

As cautiously as possible, thumbs dipped lower, pressing past the barrier of thick tracksuit pants, rubbing along the cotton of underwear just past the elastic. Matthew froze his hands where they were when he felt Alfred tensing, waiting a few moments for the man to relax a little or yank his hands away, but when there was neither reaction, he dipped his thumbs a little lower, rubbing at the cotton and the skin beneath that. Alfred shuddered, pressing closer, the kiss growing a little more desperate, sucking a bit firmer on the bottom lip caught between the American's teeth, nibbling it and releasing to pant softly.

Taking it as a good sign, Matthew tilted one of his hands, sliding his long fingers into the tracksuit, along the soft bulge, gently cupping it as Alfred gasped. The other's cock responded to the touch with a little twitch, and the Canadian smiled into the kiss that Alfred returned to dominating, rubbing at the soft organ, tips of his fingers working on his balls in slow circles, encouraging pleasure. Every moment, the length of his cock swelled, and Matthew indulged in feeling every throb, twitch, and pulse of blood in the vein on the underside as it began to harden for him. Palming a little firmer, his fingers traced the edges of the prominent cock, grasping lightly and stroking just ever so lightly through the cotton underwear, revering in the husky moan that vibrated between their lips. His hand continued, working the cock to full hardness, fingers drifting between the shaft and the balls, pressing them closer to Alfred's body for more stimulation.

Breaking the slow kiss, Matthew licked his lips, smiling at the confused and lustful expression from the American.

"Hang on, we'll get warmer another way," he offered, withdrawing his hands, uncrossing his legs awkwardly as he shifted, bright blue eyes watching intently and burning like the summer's sun as hot breaths escaped in pants against lips.

A little bit of awkward movement later, and Matthew was seated in Alfred's lap, legs wrapped around his waist and their torsos pressed up close. Uncertain smiles were exchanged, silently questioning if this was okay before the nod was given and the kiss was resumed just as tenderly and slowly as before, their hips rocking slowly together. It was then that Alfred discovered Matthew too had gotten hard, just by touching him. Their thicknesses bumped and rubbed, grinding slowly and firmly, soft hisses of breath and gasps and gentle, barely there noises passing between lips until neither could remember whose was whose and they were rutting in sync.

Slim fingers dipped down once more, sliding easily beneath the band of the tracksuit pants that Alfred wore, his other hand finding Alfred's tight grip on his lower back, guiding it around to the front, the hesitant palm trembling a little as it was pressed down to feel the Canadian's bulge, thick and hard and pleading for attention. Even as one hand rubbed the bulbous head of Alfred's cock through his underwear with the tips of his fingers, his other hand was gently encouraging Alfred's to touch, explore. In the end, he had to guide the American's shy hand to rub, rocking his hips into the calloused palm, and when fingers finally gave a brave and hesitant squeeze, Matthew rewarded the action with a moan, knowing instantly the other enjoyed hearing that sound as the cock between his fingers gave a firm twitch and hardened that bit more.

Shy and uncertain rubs coaxed by Matthew's guiding hand were slid past pants so that they were touching each other the same, the kiss growing a little messier as lust, pleasure and multitasking made them distracted.

Once more, the Canadian's hand shifted, heated up nicely and he slid it up back to the waistband of underwear, tracing the skin just above it, fingers brushing along the treasure trail. Alfred's breath hitched and their lips pulled apart, their hands slowing to a stop.

"Too fast?" Matthew breathed, opening his eyes, watching the other's face turn a darker red than it already was.

Alfred looked half ready to cry, and half desperate for more. In the end, he shook his head jerkily and moved his hand on Matthew's crotch up, trembling, prying the edge of his boxer briefs back and down a little, the paler man moaning softly as his cock was given room to move and was allowed to peek out of the cotton prison. Taking it as permission, Matthew echoed the motions, pulling Alfred's underwear out and down, extracting his arousal slowly to which Alfred shuddered to and buried his face in the strong and pale column of Matthew's neck. A gasp was muffled in Matthew's neck as slim fingers curled around the other's cock directly, grasping it and moving his hand in long and slow pumping motions, the velvety skin shifting beneath his touch.

Alfred too touched, but much shyer, needing the Canadian's soft moans and guiding hand to return to show him he was doing a good job and encourage him to do more and show him just where and how to touch.

Moans echoed softly in the room, along with the sound of skin on skin, drowned out by the noise of the game's pause menu music and muffled by the thick blankets around them.

Their bodies rocked into the hands touching them, panting in one another's ear, occasionally kissing any skin that they could reach as their hands grew more frenzied, fingers slicked with pre-cum and making their jerking motions easier.

"M-Mmm… Matthew…"

"Ah… Nngh… A-Alfred…"

Their names were breathed and heads moved simultaneously, lips seeking lips, catching and kissing deeply as thumbs swiped over the bulbous and swollen heads of their cocks, rubbing the slits, gathering the pearlescent drops and smearing them as they both raced to their peaks. Sweat curled along their jaw lines, dampening the roots of their hair, faces flushed and hot and heavy breaths passing from lungs to lungs accompanied by moans and groans of pleasure.

Together, they came with deep shudders and cries muffled by lips, slumping against one another. Hands lazily stroked, milking the last of their release out, their hands and abdomens sticky. Matthew smiled, pulling back from the kiss and opened his eyes, catching bright blue orbs staring at him, drinking in every detail, studying the high rise of his cheekbones, the slight ski jump slope at the tip of his nose and the barely there freckles that could only be seen up close, and the depths and colours in violet irises that truly reminded Alfred of the Aurora Borealis.

"Mattie," Alfred murmured, half moaned and half sighed.

"Mm?" Came the questioning hum, carefully releasing Alfred's cock with one final and gentle caress, tucking it back into underwear and withdrawing his sticky hand from the tracksuit pants.

"How do you say 'that felt amazing', in French?" he asked.

Matthew smiled, closing his eyes once more. "Cela sentait incroyable."

Alfred blinked, scrunching up his nose. "Ce… Ce lah sontey… uh… What?"

Fair cheeks turned pink as he laughed, holding Alfred close. "Cela sentait incroyable," he repeated, earning a huff.

"Yeah. That… French is hard," Alfred complained.

"One day you'll be able to say something easier. Don't be scared to ask me."

* * *

The sixth month along with Christmas was spent cosy and warm travelling around the state with Arthur and Alice. They exchanged gifts at home—Alfred and Matthew exchanging looks that their  _real_  presents would be given that night as the Kirkland couple slept—, the Canadian cooking Christmas dinner with Alfred literally carrying his parents out of the kitchen whenever they tried to intervene or lend a hand. As they ate, the table was filled with compliments and murmurs of delight, Alice begging Matthew for recipes on how to make such delicious food for such a cheap price, and Alfred literally bursting into tears once he tasted it, wrapping Matthew in a hug and smooching him right in front of his parents who chided them lightly.

In the end, Alfred and Arthur had nearly gotten into a fight over the last slice of roast with crackling which Alfred only handed over when he made his father swear that only Matthew would be allowed in their kitchen henceforth.

Despite making the promise, Alfred stole the last bite of the crackling.

The seventh, eighth and ninth months were spent with Alfred and Matthew travelling America together, crossing states in an old white pickup truck blasting old rock classics they loved and had downloaded to their iPods from the tracks played in the Supernatural series. Alfred had kicked up a fuss at the car rental place that they didn't have an old black '67 Impala and had settled instead on the white pickup for cheap with the promise to bring the dirty old vehicle back sparkling in three months.

With a backpack stuffed full of clothes and wallets heavy with cash, they set out on the road, hands on one another's thighs and a parting wave from Arthur and Alice whose farewell gift of home cooked cakes and sweets was left conveniently forgotten on the kitchen counter.

Whilst they were on holidays, it was good to travel around a little.

Even Alfred who loved his home country hadn't travelled as much as he had wanted to, and he couldn't picture a better partner to spend the road trip with to make the scenery prettier, starting with making their way to Florida before passing up north and travelling state by state, their cameras filling quickly with pictures and video footage which were imported onto laptops and looked at in the comfort of their cheap hotels beneath warm blankets and a meal cooked in the little mini kitchen by Matthew.

By the time they reached Virginia, they were sharing beds in hotels.

Crossing the border to New York from Pennsylvania, Alfred was panting and gripping the wheel as Matthew's skilled mouth sucked at his cock, bobbing his head up and down whilst his hands worked on palming his balls through his jeans.

Going west and crossing through Ohio, they pulled into a gas station to refill the tank of the pickup, both pretending to buy refreshments and snacks for the road as Matthew slipped in a bottle of lubricant in amongst his purchases whilst Alfred glowed red trying to keep the box of condoms he was buying hidden from the Canadian.

In Illinois, their pickup was pulled up on the side of the freeway as they fumbled in the back seat, Matthew's pants and underwear around his ankles, legs spread and moaning, rocking down onto the two slick fingers inside of him, laughing as Alfred cursed him for being a little pervert and buying lubricant with the intention of such lewd activities. The pickup rocked and groaned as they rutted together desperately, cocks against abdomens and between fisted hands as they got each other off to the slick slurp of the two fingers fucking the Canadian needily.

No later than crossing the border to Wisconsin, the two fingers had turned to three, and come Minnesota they slid in without discomfort, Matthew's body greedily taking them in and half riding them whenever they pushed past his puckered sphincter, thick and slippery with lubricant.

It was in Washington when they booked into a small hotel in a town called Wenatchee surrounded by nature and mountains peaked with snow when they lay in bed together nude, touching skin, kissing, tangling limbs and murmuring lustful whispers in each other's ears. The crackling fire kept the room warm, yet the bodies on the bed generated their own heat as they writhed under each other's ministrations.

They made love gently, slowly. With a good amount of stretching Matthew done over states and time, when Alfred rolled down the condom and added extra lubricant, he slid in so easily that they were both lost to the ecstasy within moments. Muscles flexed and rippled beneath skin as they grasped onto each other, moaning and panting each other's names desperately in each other's ears, Alfred losing his virginity to the man who soothed and kissed and guided him and wiped away his tears lovingly. It wasn't Matthew's first time, though it was his first time taking it from anything that wasn't his little vibrating wand left in his home in Canada or Alfred's fingers. They came almost in unison, the night silent bar their calls of ecstasy that were muted by kisses and the fear of being caught and kicked out into the thawing cold at two in the morning with nowhere else to sleep but their truck. That night, they made love until the sun rose, having to change condoms twice, always maintaining eye contact with every thrust and roll of the hips. Even as Matthew rolled onto his hands and knees, raised his ass in the air, spread his legs and pressed his face into the pillow on its side to look over his shoulder at Alfred, they kept eye contact as Alfred thrust in and bent over his body- sweaty chest to sweaty back- and continued to kiss Matthew sweetly over the pale shoulder as he rocked his hips back and forward.

Once they showered and got dressed for the day to explore the surrounding area, their hands were linked and smiles tender on their lips and in their eyes as though a little secret only they knew was held in the affectionate gaze, even the lovesick birds envious as they thrummed with untold emotions for one another.

Their feelings only blossomed more by the time they entered California, and they slipped into a sex shop with the intentions of experimenting a little bit more with pleasure. They toyed around with their purchases in their hotel in Las Vegas across the next border, claw marks along Alfred's back and Matthew's sore throat from shouting so loudly were their battle wounds from the aftermath of the orgasms they felt. The next morning after they regained consciousness once more, the Canadian had huskily whispered that orgasm denial had to have given him one of his most powerful releases he'd had in a long time.

Their final month was spent passing through the very centre and south of the country; Arizona, Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Texas. It was in Texas that Alfred discovered Matthew's kink for his southern twang and took advantage of it constantly, even going to a studio where one could dress up in old costumes and donning a cowboy outfit. He'd been pleasantly surprised when he was aggressively shoved back into the dressing room and given a blowjob as Matthew jerked himself off desperately on his knees.

Returning home, the warmth of spring had hit Louisiana and allowed them to shed most of their winter clothes despite it only being the beginning of March. They were welcomed home with open arms, Alice noting that the two seemed to have almost grown up in their three month absence. Their little secret was exchanged silently with smiles, leaving Arthur and Alice to only guess what had gone on between them.

The pickup truck was returned two days later after Matthew spent a good day in full washing it, purposefully clad only in shorts and saying the slight coolness to the air didn't even bother him as he let himself get wet and dirty, knowing he was putting on a show as Alfred sat nearby in a foldout chair with a bottle of Budweiser and his cock out, stroking it languidly with a grin, speaking in a purposeful deep husk and twang. The man they returned the pickup truck to had praised such perfect cleaning and even given them some money back as thanks for such a spectacular job, though Matthew had been too embarrassed to admit that the only reason he'd cleaned so thoroughly was to get the cum stains off the back seat and the front bonnet.

Parting ways with their vehicle, Arthur returned them to cold reality as they were driven home.

"The last three months will be fantastic memories for you once you return back to Canada, Matthew. Time has flown, hasn't it? Three months travel gone, only three left to go."

The ominous reminder that they would separate was brought to the forefront of their minds once more, leaving the blonds together in the back of the car silent once more.

* * *

"Mattie."

Violet eyes cracked open, feeling a weight shift his bed and the blankets atop of him lifted to allow for another body to slip in beside him.

"Al?" he croaked out, squinting at the digital alarm clock by his bed, "What's wrong? It's two in the morning."

"How do you say 'I can't sleep' in French?" the American asked softly.

"Je ne peux pas dormir," Matthew replied softly, smiling at the groan.

"Another word that has the R I can't pronounce," Alfred complained with a huff, cuddling up close into the open arms that accepted him easily.

"You'll get it with practice. Why can't you sleep?"

Alfred looked down, avoiding the sleepy and inquisitive gaze of his boyfriend. "It's already April… You'll be leaving in June to go back to Canada…" he mumbled, their hearts heavy at the words, "You already got your graduation certificate from your university, right? It came in the mail last week, right?"

Matthew nodded in reply, holding the hot body closer.

"How do you say 'I don't want you to go' in French?"

"Je ne veux pas que tu partes."

"Mattie, je ne voo pah keh tu part," he mumbled, accent thick and words barely understandable, but the Canadian simply nodded.

"Moi aussi," he whispered into the American's ear, and though Alfred may not have spoken a lick of French outside what he had been learning from Matthew over the past ten months, he just knew that Matthew had told him he too didn't want to go home, and it broke his heart.

"You'll come back, right?"

"Of course. I'm thinking about getting a working VISA of some kind once I get my bachelor certificate officially from my university back in Quebec," he promised, gently rolling Alfred onto his back, hovering over the top of him, curtains of blond waves curled about his face and shadowing it from the dim light in the room, his eyes catching the reflection of the moon from the night sky beyond his window, "We still have two months. Don't think like that now. We still have sixty one days left together."

Alfred nodded, the tears glittering in his eyes and shining along the streaks on his cheeks, giving Matthew an inkling that the past few hours instead of sleeping, Alfred had been crying.

They kissed softly, Alfred's legs wrapping around Matthew's hips and pulling him close.

"I… I want ya to fuck me," Alfred spoke up, surprising Matthew, "N-Not tonight… But, before ya go, I want to feel you inside me too."

"I'll have to stretch you a lot. You know I'm a bit bigger than you," Matthew reminded, earning a soft breath of a chuckle in return.

"You're longer, but I'm wider. We just need to be able to spread three fingers," he replied, reaching out for the top drawer of the Canadian's bedside table, tugging it open and feeling about for the lubricant, extracting it and smiling hopefully, "I'll stretch myself every night. I just… want to know what makes you feel so good when I do it for you."

Matthew returned the smile, nodding as he uncapped the lubricant, spreading some over two of his fingers as Alfred tugged down his sleeping pants and boxers, tossing them off the side of the bed, spreading his legs and taking a shaky breath.

"Did you lock the door?"

"Yeah, when I came in, I did."

"Okay. Are you ready?"

"Y-Yeah…"

Slim, lubricated fingers stroked the line between Alfred's balls and his opening, making the man hitch his breath, though he relaxed at the soothing kisses to his face and the tender rubbing of the tight muscle. After a little while of palming Alfred's cock, kissing his face and massaging the ring of muscles, a finger breached the virgin entrance, sliding in gently. Matthew was slow and tender, careful, starting off with one finger and easing Alfred into comfort before sliding in a second, deciding that this was as far as he would go that night- simply fingering the American without scissoring.

Alfred came with a muffled moan, biting hard on the pillow as Matthew kissed along his neck, sliding his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets as he settled down beside Alfred, jerking himself off to climax, cumming with a breath of pleasure. They cuddled up side by side, holding each other, desperate to think of only how they would make love in the future rather than Matthew's imminent return home.

* * *

The more time passed, the more emotional Alfred got, triggered easily into tears. Arthur and Alice had frequently scolded their son for having the emotions of a teenage girl on her period whenever they caught him on the couch sobbing over a movie. But that had been before Matthew, and before the American seemed to gain a reason to get worked up.

Whilst they were eating dinner together, the conversation a little light as all were tired from a large grocery shop that lasted more hours than it was meant to, it was an innocent question that set off another wave of distress.

"Matthew, have you booked your ticket back to Canada yet?"

Arthur's innocent curiosity and Matthew's silent nod made bright blue eyes water, Alfred swallowing his food to breathe easier amidst the hiccupped breaths. An uncomfortable silence fell over the small family at the appearance of large tears, broad shoulders shaking. Despite Alfred having the body of a suave and built footballer who had his emotions set only to obnoxious, happy and narcissistic with pads of fat, he was quite the soft puppy on the inside.

"Alfred," Matthew tried gently, touching the man's arm, only to be brushed off as the American stood, leaving the room hurriedly.

Neither parent had seen their son act quite so childish, yet they could see the hurt echoing in his posture, expression and eyes.

"Go calm him down. You're better than us, and you're the one he wants and needs," Alice dismissed softly, standing up and tucking Alfred's chair in, rubbing Matthew's shoulder, "I know it must hurt."

Nodding gratefully, the Canadian stood up and followed after him, finding Alfred easily in his room, gathering him in his arms and allowing the grown man to sob.

There were worse things in the world. Matthew knew this, and so did Alfred. People were terminally ill, people were starving, and people were dying. Wars were being fought and natural disasters were destroying land. They knew this. Yet to the North Americans, Matthew leaving was the worst thing that could happen in the world to them. After getting accustomed to living under the same roof for so many months, spending almost every hour of every day together, travelling America for three months straight, and the American's virginity being taken, it felt like they were forcefully being ripped apart and muscles that had fused together were being shredded, peeling apart agonisingly.

It took half an hour to console Alfred that night, but the reminder of Matthew's departure was ongoing.

* * *

May was a depressing month, but no more than June which was sombre in every way.

They tried desperately not to think about it, yet there were constant reminders.

It was in the beginning of June when Matthew deemed Alfred fully prepared and stretched for sex, and they waited for Arthur and Alice to be absent for a weekend before they slid into Matthew's room, shut and locked the door and began to kiss tenderly. Their movements were a bit more rushed, desperate, and by the time their backs hit the mattress, they were yanking and tugging at their clothing until they were nude, kissing desperately.

They had their routine for sex; pleasuring one another, because it was fairer that way. This time, Matthew only serviced Alfred to relax his body, give him something to focus on whilst he was prepared and slicked up one final time. The condom was rolled down, extra lubricant applied, and Matthew eased himself in with a throaty moan. They held hands as he thrust, kissing and looking deep into each other's eyes, emotions soaking them and the air around them more than sweat and humidity combined. Alfred's toned and broad body rocked up and down along the sheets, on and off Matthew's cock as the Canadian thrust nice and slow but deep and hard, his hips pushing back and forward that created a deep sway right to the cores of their bodies like the ocean did to the shores it touched.

There was no need to rush. No need to force themselves to go rough and fast because they'd already done that before, already experimented with positions and speeds and depths and they knew what it felt like to get a little bit kinky.

This was more about the love and sensations they could only vocalise with moans and gasps and shaky breaths.

They slept curled up together that night, blanketed by the moon's rays and each other's limbs, much like they did the following night, and the night after that, and ongoing for weeks.

Until that day finally arrived.

The suitcase was loaded in the car, Matthew's room checked once, twice, thrice and even ongoing for a fourth time for items that may have been forgotten, along with the whole of the house twice over. They all spoke together, perfectly comfortable with one another like a true family, like they simply belonged in this time with just the four of them; Arthur, Alice, Alfred and Matthew.

Yet Matthew by name and citizenship and VISA did not belong, and it came time to say goodbye.

His flight was checked in, and he handed over his suitcase at the Baggage Check-In desk, receiving his one way ticket back to Montreal, Quebec, with a transfer flight on a smaller plane to his little town away from the big city. Shaky hands tucked the ticket into his passport, the tear-off ends sticking out and marking the page that had his information and photograph printed on to be opened easily when needed to be checked and shown to flight attendants before he boarded his flight. A backpack rested on a single shoulder, standing in a simple off white shirt and tan pants, his pastel blue turtleneck jumper slung over his arm, smiling at the family that stood before him.

"You shan't overheat with that jumper on? The heat is high today," Arthur commented, gesturing to the item of clothing Matthew had arrived in.

Shaking his head, the Canadian smiled. "The plane is cold- I brought this with me last time as well because even if outside is hotter than the sun itself, inside the plane will get quite freezing," he replied, smoothing down the cotton, as though it was creased with crinkles only he could see.

"It's hotter than Satan's ass crack," Alfred huffed, trying to break a smile, though bright blue eyes were threatening to overflow with tears- much how a sink full of water with the tap still on wobbled dangerously on spilling over to the floor.

"Alfred," Alice chided before Arthur could jump in, the Canadian smiling, his own eyes a little glazed over behind rounded frames, swallowing down a lump in his throat as the speakers overhead announced that flight AA964 to Montreal, Quebec, had opened and was ready for boarding, accepting the Business Class seat ticketholders to come through.

"Well then," Arthur spoke, licking his lips, smiling to the younger male he had grown to treat like his very own son, "I guess this is goodbye for now."

Matthew nodded, reached out and accepted the hand offered to him, shaking it. "You've been a good lad, and we thoroughly enjoyed your stay, and I hope you did as well. You're welcome any time in our home with open arms," Arthur continued, pulling Matthew close and giving the taller one a firm hug, "Have a safe trip home."

"Thank you, papa," Matthew murmured, rubbing the Brit's back before he was released, glancing down at his host mother whose bottom lip was trembling.

"I never thought I'd get so attached to a man other than my son and husband- I daresay I shall never do this again," she spoke, her voice cracking as she dabbed under her crimson glasses with her handkerchief, careful not to smudge her mascara.

"Don't cry, maman, we had a wonderful time together," Matthew reassured, brushing back some of the shorter woman's hair.

"Too many times I've called you my son- you're too likeable a young man. It hurts to watch you go," she continued, sniffling a little, Arthur coming in and rubbing his wife's back as she wrapped her arms around the Canadian, "Safe trip home, dear. Come back any time you wish for some tea. You're forever welcome in my home."

Matthew smiled more, blinking a little bit more to keep his eyes from tearing up too much, nodding. "Thank you."

Letting go of her, Matthew lifted his head, turning to the last member of the family, bright blue and vivid violet locking, the parents knowing that the two needed to be allowed to say whatever needed to be said without interruption or being called babies or little girls for their reactions, particularly Alfred who was hiccupping softly, broad hands shaking and curled into fists, shoulders hunched a little.

"Don't cry," Matthew murmured, though his voice cracked as he watched a tear roll down the American's cheek when the announcement sounded once more saying all Economy Class ticketholders from seats eighty through to sixty were available for boarding, "Just think of the fun times we had. It was great, there's nothing to be sad about."

Alfred nodded, chest shuddering with every sob as more tears rolled down his cheeks, drinking in the face of his angel. His beautiful angel had come like a gift from heaven, he knew it, and yet now, a year later, his perfect angel was flying away from him again.

"I'm gonna miss ya," he choked out, rubbing at his nose and sniffling loudly, chest tightening, heart beating erratically in his ribcage, though it was a far different sensation to when Matthew had first walked through the doors at Arrivals.

"I'll miss you too, Al," the fair blond replied softly, placing his backpack down, along with his jumper, moving in and wrapping his arms gently around the American. Their lips met easily, without needing to even look, and Matthew allowed a tear to roll down his own cheeks as well once they pulled apart, Alfred laughing through sobs.

"I don't know what to say- there's so much to say but I can't even figure out how to do it!" he hiccupped, wiping at his eyes while Matthew picked up his backpack and jumper once more.

"You have my email, and my Facebook, and my Skype, and my Line, and even my cell number in Canada—you'll still talk to me and see me."

"It won't be the same!" Alfred objected, watching the queue waiting to board the plane shrinking and another announcement for seats forty to twenty to prepare for boarding. Matthew had no response, pursing his lips and nodded, agreeing. It wouldn't be the same. Hearing a voice on a phone and reading text was a sharp contrast to lying side by side in bed, bodies hot and touching and hearing voices right in your ear as your hair was stroked. It wouldn't be the same, and that fact hurt.

"Mattie…"

Violet eyes lifted, glancing at the queue and then back to Alfred. He had to go.

"How do you say 'I'm coming to visit you a week in Canada because I've booked my flight and got a Working VISA application approved' in French?"

Matthew froze, staring at the American. "E- _Eh_?"

Alfred gave a watery smile as Arthur and Alice handed over copies of documents to the Canadian who stared at them, dumbfounded, violet eyes wide.

"I'm coming abroad to see ya, Mattie. Next week. I've got everything organised and I fly out on Tuesday," Alfred clarified, drinking in Matthew's expression as he looked up, tears rolling down his pale cheeks that were flushing pink in delight and surprise, overwhelmed with emotion- a treasure to see, "I got my VISA application approved for three years."

Dropping everything in his hands- backpack, jumper and documents-, Matthew leapt into Alfred's arms, hugging him tightly, trembling, and Alfred took it upon himself to comfort the angel who he would follow soon after, hearing jumbled French he could assume was mutterings of relief, catching a few curses here and there. He'd learnt enough French to pick up sentences, having been studying an online course in French during his final semester so he could survive in a little French speaking town in Quebec.

"One more thing, Mattie…"

"Mon dieu, I'm going to kill you for doing this to me…"

"Heh… I'm sorry, darlin'…"

Pulling back, they exchanged smiles and a final kiss, gathering the Canadian's dropped items as he moved towards the line to board the flight.

"Ya gotta tell me before ya go, Mattie! One more thing!" he called out as Matthew handed over his ticket to the flight attendants, the barcode scanning and flashing green, catching off his glasses and eyes in reflection.

"How do you say 'I love you' in French?!"

A bright smile spread Matthew's lips.

"Je t'aime!"

"Je t'aime aussi!" Alfred shouted with a wave, beaming at his lover who waved back.

"Je t'aime, Alfred, mon amour! À bientôt!"

With Matthew disappearing into the hall that lead to the plane's entrance, Alfred lowered his hand slowly, weeping openly, his father and mother standing by his side, rubbing his strong back and holding back tears of their own even as the plane moved into taxi and then took off into the skies, knowing that with the angel gone, their own son too would soon follow after the man that stole his heart and clung to it with a temporary farewell.

" _Comment dit-on 'À bientôt_ ' _en anglais?"_

" _Goodbye for now…"_


End file.
